


Blood is Thicker than Water

by brokenangelintheground



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Elf!Stiles, M/M, alpha!Derek, magical!Stiles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenangelintheground/pseuds/brokenangelintheground
Summary: Ever since his father passed away, Stiles ventures out into the center of the forest to escape. Every day is the same: he walks, barefooted and shirtless to a large, oak tree stump and sits for a few hours to meditate.Only this time, something new and unexpected happens that turns Stiles' world completely upside down.





	1. Into the Clearing

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me and I had to write something and share it. Please let me know if you want more. I have an idea of where I can/want to take it.
> 
> Note: Rating and Archive Warnings may change as story progresses.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles journeys into the forest to meditate when the unexpected happens, turning his life upside down.

It was something he started after his father passed.

Early in the morning, before the sun even began its slow stroll over the horizon, clusters of stars still faintly dotting the night sky, Stiles would walk out into the forest, barefoot and shirtless. He’s gotten used to the cool air kissing his skin, the feel of the earth beneath his feet. He wore a loose pair of pants, held up by a thin length of string. 

A gentle breeze blew as he pushed through a patch of bushes, finding his way into a clearing near the center of the forest. There was an old oak tree stump in the center of the clearing, a variety of mushrooms sprouting up around it. Stepping over the mushrooms, Stiles sat cross-legged on the stump, getting himself comfortable. 

Once settled, Stiles closed his eyes and placed his hands on his knees. Calming his breath, he listened to his surroundings, tuning in to the sounds of the forest. He could hear a few faint hoots of a large owl in the distance settling in after a night of hunting. What sounded like a robin filled the silence after that, no doubt just waking for the day. Stiles had watched a mother robin teach her flock how to fly. Well, he watched her push them out of the nest, anyways. 

He let the sound of the robin fade out, tuning into the earth. His pointed ears could pick up even the movements of the smallest bug skittering through the dirt and leaves. 

Coming back to himself, Stiles focused inward, listening to the sound of his heart beat softly in his chest. Inhaling deeply, Stiles let himself relax. He felt his magic start to spark, a small fire building behind his stomach, slowly spreading throughout his body. Stiles could feel it start to settle in his toes, unconsciously wiggling his toes at the sensation. 

Time passed as Stiles felt the sun’s rays on his back. His eyes fluttered open as he stretched his arms towards the sky. 

Just then, Stiles heard a rustle in the bushes to his left. Keeping calm, he probed the area, his magic reaching out. He smiled, then, as a large, male deer walked into the clearing. He immediately noticed the buck’s broken horn on the left side of his head. He felt sorry for the creature as he walked closer, no doubt curious as to why there was an elf in its part of the forest. 

If he knew anything, it was what it felt like to be an outcast. 

Stiles slowly rose from the stump, careful to not step on the mushrooms surrounding it. He stood perfectly still, allowing the buck to walk towards him. Despite having broken horns, the buck was impressively intimidating. It had at least two feet on Stiles, and that was before one took into account the horns. 

The buck lowered his head once he stood next to Stiles, the latter gently reaching out to run his hand down the back of its neck. Stiles could feel the power of the animal with a simple touch. 

“You’re quite handsome, aren’t you? That’s too bad about your horn, though.” The buck let out a noise as if he understood Stiles. Just then, Stiles felt the air around him shift, ears immediately tuning into the change. The buck noticed too, and for a second stood perfectly still. Then, the buck turned tail and cantered off back the way it came. 

Moments later, Stiles watched as a large, black wolf limped into the clearing. He was cautious as the wolf met his gaze. It was clearly hurt, but Stiles couldn’t anticipate what it was going to do. He watched as the wolf raised its nose to the sky, taking in the smell of Stiles before collapsing to the ground. 

That was his que to act. 

Stiles rushed forward, silently casting protection spells around himself in cast the wolf was feigning injury. Upon closer inspection, however, Stiles saw what looked like holes in the left side of the wolf. He had no knowledge of what had the ability to do such a thing. He never once read about an animal or creature with the power to create small, precise holes in the body. Surely the wounds would be more gnarly had this been a close encounter with a small weapon. 

Stiles gently reached out to touch the wolf, hands searching opposite the entry wounds. 

Nothing. 

Holding his hands over the wolf, Stiles began chanting. 

His aptitude for healing magic was not to be admired, but he tried to do what he could. At the very least, he wanted to keep the wolf comfortable as he approached the afterlife. Stiles had managed to stop the bleeding, the wolf letting out a small huff of air in response. 

“I’m afraid that’s as much as I can do, considering where we are, and I don’t want to risk moving you.” 

Just then, out of nowhere, three figures dressed in what Stiles could only describe as foreign material, stormed into the clearing. He renewed the protection spells around him, forcing himself to relax. He spotted something shiny on the hip of the one closest to Stiles. The other two held much larger, shiny, things in their arms pointed directly at him. Taking a deep breath, Stiles swallowed.

“What business do you have here? You’re trespassing on sacred grounds.” 

“Our business is with that beast,” the closest of the men said. His voice was deep and calm. Stiles chanced a look at the wolf before turning his gaze back to the man. 

“You were the ones who harmed this wolf? Clearly you do not know the laws of these lands. No one is to harm any creature living in The Forest of the Ancestors.” 

“This wolf is not native to your lands; therefore, we are not breaking any rules. Now, step aside before we use force.” The man lowered his hand over the shiny object on his waist. 

Stiles considered his options. 

He could only assume the shiny things the men held were to blame for the wolf’s injuries. Stiles turned his back to the man who seemed to be in charge, which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t the best thing to do, given the circumstances. He placed a gentle touch on the wolf, noticing the barely-there beating of the animal’s heart. 

It was a stupid decision, but he knew he had no choice. He would not let this wolf suffer at the hands of these strangers. 

“Any animal or creature that enters The Forest of the Ancestors, regardless of their origins, are under the protection of Her people. So, I’m sorry, but I will not let you take this wolf.” 

Stiles willed his magic into action. The two with their weapons drawn moved closer before Stiles lashed out, hoping his protection spells were still working should they get a chance to retaliate. With a well-aimed gust of air, Stiles sent the two men flying back into the trees. Without turning to face the other man, Stiles reached out with his magic, letting it settle in the roots of the closest tree. The roots sprang out from the earth and wrapped around the other man, a small grunt leaving him. He probed the area, making sure the two men he sent flying were unconscious before standing. 

He quickly drew a circle around the wolf with the heel of his right foot. Stepping inside, he raised his right hand over the dying animal. 

“You have no idea who you’re messing with, kid,” the man spat as he struggled, fingers reaching for the weapon on his hip. It was a rash decision, however, Stiles needed to know more. He wouldn’t be able to forget about these men and what their appearance in the forest could mean. He snapped his fingers, calling the weapon to him. It felt cool to the touch, the texture smooth on one end and textured on the other. He didn’t have time to examine it further, or to retort the man’s words. Stiles formed a magical bubble around the weapon, unsure of its full power before closing his eyes. Muttering under his breath, Stiles spoke the words of the teleportation spell. It was a last resort effort and despite the effects it may have on the wolf, he had to take the chance. He wasn't going to leave the wolf to these men. 

He felt the air around him grow thin as he broke through the veil. Taking one last look at the man, Stiles finished the incantation and was immediately surrounded by darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are much appreciated!


	2. Wolf Turned Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles returns to his village with the injured wolf in tow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those of you reading, I'd like to thank you in advance for your patience. This will, like most of my works, be slow going. I try to write as often as I can when I'm not working. There will hopefully be a third chapter up by next week.

“I’m sorry for the sudden arrival,” Stiles apologized immediately after appearing in the middle of the infirmary ward. “I found this wolf in the forest. It was harmed with this weapon, here, I think. I don’t know what it is but whatever made these holes I believe is still inside him.”

“Did you use any healing enchantments?” one of the healers asked as she examined the wolf.

“Yes. I tried to stop the bleeding but I’m pretty sure the wounds reopened when I teleported in.”

“You’ve done well, Lord Stiles. Please, allow us to do our work.”

Keeping an eye on the wolf, Stiles sat down on the bed opposite to it. The healing enchantments had him slightly dizzy, the rush of adrenaline that came with the attack had started to fade. Teleporting himself and the wolf took more out of him than he thought.

“Can I be of assistance, my lord?” One of the healers noticed his discomfort and walked over to him. She immediately lifted her hand to his forehead. “It seems as though you have a slight fever. Please, lie back,” she said calmly, a warm smile pulling at the edge of her lips.

Rubbing the side of his temple, Stiles closed his eyes and lay back on the bed. He tried to ignore the healers hands on his body, their warm touch as she checked his pulse around his wrist.

Countless thoughts had started running through his mind as he remembered the events that happened in the forest. His mind wandered to the buck he befriended, remembering its beauty and power. He then remembered the wolf limping into the clearing. Finally, the three men coming through the bushes flashed in the front of his mind.

Where did they come from and why were they so interested in the wolf? What kind of weapon did they possess? What power did it contain? Just then, Stiles overheard the healers speaking in hushed whispers.

“Are you certain, Marnie?” Stiles recognized the voice of Lila, the senior healer.

“Yes, my lady. These are made of silver, no doubt to hinder the wolf’s abilities. Once we find them all, it’s only a matter of time before he shifts back.”

“This is certainly strange. A werewolf in our woods. No humans should be able to get through the barrier, let alone a changeling. I must inform the elders. Are you fine to watch over these two?”

“Of course.”

Stiles listened as Lila’s footsteps fell quiet.  

A werewolf.

He had only ever read about them in books from his mother’s library. Most werewolves were only able to partially shift, all the while maintaining their human-like appearance. This werewolf was special, though- he could completely shift into a wolf. This wolf was an alpha; the leader of its pack.

Stiles opened his eyes slowly, gaze falling over the wolf. He would never have imagined that he’d be in such close proximity to such an animal, let alone being the one responsible for bringing it into his village. Stiles watched as the wolf inhaled suddenly, huffing out a breath of air moments later.

“Will he recover?”

Marnie kept up her gaze on the wolf as she spoke: “I believe so. We’ve found nearly eight small pellets inside him. I believe them to be made of silver. There was internal damage, however, we repaired everything. As I said earlier, it’s only a matter of time. I’m sure he’ll want to thank you when he comes to.” That was when Marnie turned towards Stiles, her smile intoxicating.

He still had so many questions.

“Thank you, Marnie. I think I’m going to rest. I have no doubt the elders will want to speak with me.”

“If you’d like, I can give you a sedative? Maybe push the inevitable back a little bit?”

“Sure. Oh, if you could make sure the elders get this,” he said, pointing to the silver weapon encased in his protective bubble, “that’d be great. I don’t know the extent of its power.”

Marnie bowed low, her hair tumbling alongside her shoulders. “Of course, my lord. Rest easy.” Stiles watched as Marnie raised her hand to the bubble, her energy mixing with it, before she walked out of the room. Stiles settled in bed, choosing to lie on his side to face the wolf. His eyes were heavy, the sedative kicking in as sleep beckoned.

As he finally felt himself drift away into darkness, he asked the All-Mother to protect this werewolf. He wanted his efforts to save him not to be in vein. If anything, he wanted the chance to meet the man behind the wolf.

~~

When Stiles woke from his sleep, he slowly sat up in his bed. Panic set in when he noticed the wolf was no longer in its bed. Sitting up quickly, Stiles pushed himself to the edge of his bed, a dull pinprick of pain settling behind his left ear. Head spinning, he closed his eyes, willing the sensation to subside.

“Take your time,” came a soft voice. Stiles opened his eyes to see his mother walking into the room. Clad in her elder robes, she flashed him a small smile before sitting next to him. “You no doubt have questions, and there will be time for them. Right now, I want to know how you’re feeling.”

“I’m just a little sore, that’s all.”

“Do you need any remedies?” Stiles shook his head.

“No, I’ll be fine. So, what-

“Not yet, Stiles,” she interrupted. “Like I said, there will be time. I want you to head home and clean up. I need you to come to the elder’s temple and tell us everything that transpired out in the forest this morning. Are you up for it?”

The pain in his head bubbled and his ears rang as he thought about standing in front of the most important members of the village. Stiles felt his mother’s hand on his back, soft and warm. He then remembered what the healers said about the wolf and he needed to know if they were right. Turning to his mom, Stiles pleaded.

“Can you tell me one thing? I overheard the healers saying that the wolf I found is a werewolf. Is that true?” His mother considered his questions, eyes sparkling like the North Star.

“Yes, it is true.” Stiles wanted one question to be enough, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Where is he? Can I see him?” His mother stood from the bed. She kept her back turned to Stiles, though he could tell that what she was about to say was not good news.

“When we knew he had recovered from his injuries, he was taken to the prison cells.”

“What? Why-

“You must understand, Stiles,” his mother began, finally turning around to look at him. “We know very little of why this werewolf was in our woods. We sealed off our lands countless years ago to keep humans out, and yet, some have slipped through. The wolf will be questioned when he wakes up, however, you should know that there is a minute chance that the elders will vote to set it free.” There was sadness in her voice as she spoke and Stiles felt anger rising inside him. He couldn’t explain why he felt this way.

“You’re the leader of our people, our High Elder. Surely you can overrule the other elders?” Stiles watched as she shook her head.

“It's not that simple, Stiles. We will have to see how this all plays out. I implore you to forget about the wolf and to let those in charge handle things.”

Stiles was at a loss for words.

Fisting the sheets in his hands, Stiles forced himself to breathe. A deep, slightly painful sensation filled him, starting just near his heart, and travelled to his toes. Why did he have such strong feelings towards this wolf? Nothing made sense to him and it terrified him, the feelings he had. Breathing in deep, Stiles stood from his bed.

He knew that the elders’ word was final and if they desired to see the wolf locked away forever, or worse, he wanted to see him before that. Looking right in his mother’s eyes, Stiles steeled himself for what he was about to ask.

“I will speak with the elders if you allow me to speak to the wolf. I want the first person he sees to be someone who actually cares about his well-being.” His heart beat fast in his chest as he waited for an answer. His mother closed the distance between them, raising one hand to frame the side of his face.

“I can grant you this request. Take caution, Stiles. These are unusual and unsteady times and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Through a small smile, Stiles replied: “You taught me everything I know- I’m sure I can handle myself.”

~~

Stiles steeled himself as he approached the Elder’s Chamber.

It was a simple task his mother had asked him to do: stand in front of the elders and recount what happened in the forest. Easy. Simple. To the point.

The village was a series of buildings throughout the treetops high above the ground. The elders were highest in the village, near the canopy of the trees. Stiles had always wanted to climb atop the building and look out over the tops of the trees. He’s lived his entire life under the trees and he would give anything to see the blue sky stretching out for miles, dotted with clouds.

His mother was waiting for him at the entrance to the chamber. She gave him a reassuring smile before placing her hand in the middle of his back, guiding him inside.

“Be sure to speak only when spoken to. Speak clearly and concisely. Don’t speculate on what you believe happened. Tell them exactly what they want to hear. Do you understand?” Stiles audibly gulped as he attempted to swallow down the knot in his throat.

“Yes,” he managed to push out. His mother gave him one last look of encouragement before pushing open the doors to the Elder’s Chamber.

It was a small, dark room lit by candles strewn about here and there. A large, circular table took up most of the space in the room. Six elders sat around it, all dressed in similar robes to the ones his mother wore. Their conversations stopped when they saw Stiles and all eyes were on him.

“Sit over there for now, Stiles,” his mother instructed, pointing to a chair in the corner. Stiles walked over, the elders’ eyes still boring a hole in him. Once seated, Stiles pulled at the hem of his shirt to distract himself as one of the elders spoke.

“Shall we continue from last week’s meeting or begin with the events that have transpired today?”

“What say you, Claudia?” Stiles watched as his mother took her place at the table.

“We should address what happened to my son this morning. And let it be known now, I have given him permission to speak with the wolf before he’s interrogated.” A handful of the elders audibly protested and a new knot twisted in the pit of Stiles’ stomach.

“I’m aware of your feelings towards my son, but I believe, given the circumstances, he should be allowed this small favor. He simple wishes to ensure the wolf has recovered and his efforts weren't in vain. We’re moving on,” his mother said with finality. “As you are aware, my son encountered a werewolf in our lands this morning. I will be sending our best out to the border to see if the wards we placed are functioning properly. That being said, there is more to the story that I want my son to explain.”

Stiles stood slowly from his chair.

All eyes were on him once again.

“Perhaps the boy should start by explaining why he was outside of the village so early in the morning?” Stiles recognized the voice of Melanie, who was currently out of view. There was no animosity in her voice, which Stiles was thankful for. He kept his mother’s advice in mind as he cleared his throat.

“Every morning I go out to this clearing about two miles from here to meditate. I started after my father passed-

“Your actions are a bit reckless, don’t you think so?” A different elder spoke this time, his voice a clear indication of his disapproval.

“Not at all, I-

“We have perfectly good mediation chambers in the village. Are they not good enough for you?” Stiles searched for his mother.

“I believe we’re losing sight of why we’re here. Let the boy be and allow him to speak.” It was a new voice; one Stiles didn’t recognize. In the back of his mind, Stiles remembered his mother telling him that a new elder was appointed not too long ago. His eyes traveled around the room until they fell on the man who spoke in his defense.

He was a lot younger than Stiles expected. He had a kind face, a few freckles here and there and green eyes that rivaled the color of emeralds. If Stiles was right, his hair was shoulder length; it was currently tied up elegantly at the back of his head. The elder flashed a small smile in his direction and Stiles felt his face flush before he spoke.

“As I was saying, I travel out to this clearing every day. I was apprehensive about the wolf at first before I realized he was injured. I noticed three small holes in the wolf’s side that were bleeding. I wasn't sure what could have made such small, precise wounds in a body. I stopped the bleeding and did as much as I could before three people came into the clearing. Where they came from, I don’t know. They wore strange clothing and had these silver weapons I’ve never seen before. I brought this one back,” Stiles said, pointing to the bubble that floated over his mother’s head. “I hoped it would help in finding out who these men were. They threatened to hurt me if I didn’t give them the wolf so I, unaware of the wolf’s true nature, incapacitated the three men and brought him here.” Stiles finished, his heart beating fast as he recounted his story. His mother wasted no time after he spoke to address the elders.

“Thank you, Stiles. Your testimony has given us plenty to discuss. I will send word to the guards that you have permission to speak with the wolf. If you would please leave us now.” Stiles bowed low. He felt the eyes of the new elder on him and couldn’t help but glance in his direction. Stiles was met with a dazzling smile. What was this guy’s deal?

~~

Stiles decided to take food and water to the wolf, should he be awake. The guards stationed at the prison cells gave no heed to Stiles as he walked by. As far as he knew, the wolf was their only prisoner. Stiles found the wolf he had saved at the far end of the hallway, only, he was no longer a wolf. The man sat cross-legged against the far wall of his cell, nothing but a blanket covering him around the waist. Stiles felt himself blush for the second time today because of an attractive man. Saying that this man was attractive was an understatement, however.

His physique was no doubt a product of him being a werewolf, but Stiles couldn’t stop himself from taking in every inch of his body. Even sitting down, Stiles could tell he was tall, perhaps even only an inch or so taller than he was. The guy had muscles for days and a trail of hair that started around his chest and nipples that traveled below the blanket around his waist. Stiles swallowed hard, his imagination running wild at what the guy had hidden beneath it. He took in the man’s ears, soft and round, unlike his own. He had a curious need to reach out and touch them.

Stiles was met with a curious look from the man when they finally locked eyes. He watched as the man’s left eyebrow rose in curiosity as he lifted his head into the air, giving an experimental sniff. Right, werewolf. He had a powerful nose.

He wasn’t sure if the man was expecting someone else, someone who was- not Stiles. Clearing his throat, Stiles slid the tray of food and water into the cell.

“I thought you might be hungry,” Stiles managed, voice shaky. The man considered Stiles, eyebrow still firmly raised in question before he stood. Stiles let out a small sound as the blanket fell away from the man’s waist, giving Stiles a full view of his-

“You’re who they sent to interrogate me? A boy who blushes at the sight of a naked man?” Stiles faltered, eyes lingering on the man’s dick for a second too long before giving his full attention back.

“I’m no interrogator,” Stiles replied, the tips of his ears burning.

“Clearly.”

It wasn’t that the man was rude, rather he was showing off. Testing to see how Stiles would react to him. Stiles watched as he turned around, doing his best to not stare at the man’s ass before he settled back against the far wall. The man was just about to bite into his apple when Stiles reached through the bars and snapped his fingers. Said apple flew through the air, Stiles catching it gracefully in his hand with a smirk.

“You should consider being a bit nicer to the person who saved your life.” Stiles bit into the apple, mirroring the raised eyebrow. The man chuckled lightly.

“You can act all you want, kid, but your heartbeat gives you away. I admire the effort, though.” Stiles watched as he bit into a piece of bread, eyes shining brightly as he waited for his next move. Stiles’ resolved melted almost instantly. Sighing heavily, he sat down in front of the cell. Pulling his knees to his chest, Stiles rested his head on his hands that were over his knees. Stiles could sense a change in the air, and no doubt so could the wolf. He gently probed at the man’s aura, gauging its awareness to his magic.

Stiles watched as he closed his eyes the second their auras tangled together. Stiles could feel a warmth spreading through his body, settling in his chest. It reminded him of the sensation he felt when speaking with his mother. Only this time, Stiles felt at peace. When the man opened his eyes, Stiles saw something different in his expression. Something he couldn’t quite pin down.

“Your magic is strong,” he said softly, a hint of disbelief edged in there somewhere alongside what Stiles would call admiration. Stiles contemplated the feeling in his chest for a few moments, deciding to revisit it at a later date.

“Runs in the family,” he said coolly before biting into the apple again, watching as the man took a long sip of his water. After setting down his cup, Stiles watched as he moved closer to him. This time, he brought the blanket with him.

“So, if you’re not here to interrogate me, then why are you here?” His voice was soft, softer than Stiles would expect from someone who looked so rugged. His jawline alone could cut diamonds it was that intense. Stiles got lost in the man’s eyes for a moment.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he muttered low, eyes darting around the cell.

“Interesting. And what of the men that were chasing me?” The man’s words brought Stiles’ gaze directly to him, eyes wide.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Stiles began, voice shaky as he was, once again, reminded of what happened earlier that day. “I focused on getting you out of there. I incapacitated them as best I could and brought you here. I didn’t think you would end up in a cell, though,” he finished, guilt filling him.

“Thank you,” the man said then, eliciting a smile out of Stiles. “I’ve been in my share of prisons, so don’t worry about that.”

“I was only trying to help you. The All Mother watches over all the creatures in her dominion, but according to those men, you come from their land.” There was a hint of a question in Stiles’ voice. He watched as the man tilted his head to the side slightly, eyes searching.

“They were right about me not being a native to these lands; I come from a place called Beacon Hills, where I was separated from my pack because of those hunters.” Stiles edged closer to the cell.

“Hunters? So, they _are_ humans. How’d you manage to get through our border? It was supposed to be sealed off entirely.” Stiles’ face was nearly pushed up against the bars of the cell.

“Not entirely sure. I wasn’t planning to come this way. The hunters cornered me. Why is there a ward over your lands? Did something happen?” Stiles drew back a little, not entirely prepared to be asked a question. He thought of the best way to answer.

“Humans invaded our lands years ago,” Stiles said softly, barely above a whisper. I don’t know why, I’ve never been told anything other than that. None of my people have been outside of our village since then.”

Silence fell between them, then, as both digested the information they were given. Stiles wondered why humans would want to hunt werewolves so viciously. He thought of the weapon the men held and how humans may be more advanced than he could have ever imagined. Something so compact and sleek that could do so much damage.

“I know it must feel like I _am_ interrogating you, but I want to know one more thing,” Stiles said, leaning towards the bars once again. The man nodded. “The weapons the men had, what are they? How can something so small be so powerful?”

“We call them guns. They’re made from silver, a substance that werewolves, like myself, are weak to. The guns fire small, pointed rounds at extremely high speeds. Depending on where the rounds enter the body, they can simply injure or kill someone.”

Stiles was at a loss for words. Why have his people shut themselves out from a world where such things exist? Surely there are other marvels in their world that are helpful and aren’t created to harm others. Surely not all humans in existence have ill intentions towards the elven folk. Stiles felt something new and exciting starting to come to life inside him. A deep, burning desire to leave the safety of their lands and explore the world of humans. He then realized that his only chance to leave his village was currently sitting behind bars waiting to be interrogated with no guarantee of being set free. As his eyes fell on the man, his mind raced at the possibilities of a new and exciting life.

The only thing he could do was wait and see how the elders decide to handle the situation. If they were to keep him in the cells, Stiles had no other choice but to break him out and flee. It would be difficult, leaving his people, his mother, behind. His resolved was rock steady, though, and he now had to figure out a way to get out of the village with the wolf without anyone noticing until it was too late to come after him.

“I’m Derek, by the way,” the man said, giving Stiles a small smile.

“Stiles,” he replied, chuckling lightly at Derek’s reaction to his name.

This was going to be interesting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


	3. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek is intrigued by the elf boy who visits him in his cell. 
> 
> Also, Derek gets a boner because of Stiles's magic because magically induced boners are fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for such a long time between chapters but these past few months have been really bad. My anxiety has been through the roof what with school almost being over, my job, my dad being in the hospital again. Thankfully, everything is working itself out and now I give you this! 
> 
> Happy Holidays everyone!

Derek stared at the elf in front of him, sitting neatly on the floor outside of his cell, his mean façade melting the more he stared.

The thing with elves that Derek hated was that he couldn’t tell how old they were just by looking at them. Something in their DNA made them age at a snail’s pace.

Stiles looked young. His hair was a deep brown color, shorter than most elves Derek had encountered in the past. It stood at odd angles over his head, giving him the sense that he just rolled out of bed. Derek had a brief image of the elf lying in his bed, his honey-amber eyes fluttering open after a long night of debauchery. What surprised Derek the most was the spattering of moles that ran along the elf’s neck, a perfect trail leading down under his shirt where there were, no doubt, even more moles to be seen. The elves Derek had the fortune of running into in the past all had perfect skin, no blemishes to be seen anywhere on their bodies. Stiles’ skin _was_ perfect, no sight of a wrinkle anywhere.

Derek licked his lips at the thought of running his tongue over each of those moles, forming a pattern that was equally bizarre and beautiful as Stiles writhed beneath him. He wanted to, in every way possible, make his skin flush, especially the tips of those beautifully pointed ears.

Being behind bars was impeding Derek’s ability to ruin the elf in the most delicious way. Stiles considered Derek again, the latter enjoying the slight tilt of his head, his ears twitching ever so lightly. He could practically smell the arousal wafting off him ever since he walked in and it only made him want the boy that much more. Stiles stood from his spot, then, one hand settling on the bars of the cell.

“I can’t promise you your freedom, even if my mother is the High Elder. If the elder’s council is lenient and at least allows you to remain alive, which sounds morose, I know-

Derek chuckled lightly at the sentiment.

“I _can_ promise to keep you company at least,” he finished, eyes lingering over Derek. Derek mirrored Stiles’ movement then, standing from his spot, he walked over to the bar. Hearing the uptick in Stiles’ heartbeat, he couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at his lips, his inner wolf practically preening. Derek handed Stiles the cup, silently thanking him with his eyes before placing his hand over the spot where Stiles’ hand rested. Derek watched as the elf’s eyes fluttered shut, mouthing hanging open slightly as he tried his best to contain himself.

Derek leaned towards him, getting as close as possible. He could practically taste the boy’s magic now, their bodies so close to each other. It was intoxicating. The elf smelled of books and lightning with a hint of lavender as Derek moved even closer still. Stiles’ eyes opened once more, flickering between Derek’s lips and eyes, calculating. Derek made the equation easier for him. In one swift motion, Derek used his free hand to reach behind Stiles and pull his head closer, seizing his lips.

The world seemed to stop then. Derek felt his wolf swooning within, wanting nothing more than to take this elf to bed. Stiles had reached into the cell with his other hand to find purchase on Derek, his long, limber fingers gripping around his waist as the kiss deepened. Derek was the first to pull away, smiling warmly at the sight of Stiles’ eyes still shut, a look of wonder on his face. He watched as Stiles opened his eyes, honey-amber turning to gold as Stiles worried his bottom lip.

“Sorry.”

Derek’s left eyebrow twitched.

“What are _you_ apologizing for? I’m the one who-

“This isn’t right. You’re a prisoner and I’m … I should go,” Stiles stuttered, pulling away from Derek.

“I hope this doesn’t mean you won’t keep me company if I’m stuck here?” Derek said lightly. In the back of his mind, he didn’t mean to sound desperate, as if their kiss had meant more than what it was. What was it exactly? Derek asked himself. He could sense something different about this elf, something he couldn’t quite pin down. When their auras intertwined, Derek felt something he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager. He couldn’t just ignore it, could he? He had to see if that feeling was coincidental or … something else. Derek sunk to the floor of his cell, leaning up against the far wall. Stiles had brought a hand to his lips, fingers lightly splaying over them as he watched Derek. Derek tried to feel hopeful that this was a sign that Stiles felt what he felt. That their meeting was something not to take lightly.

As Stiles’ hand fell from his face, he acknowledged Derek.

“I hope the elders find it in their conscience to set you free,” he said, barely above a whisper. Derek could hear every word, though, as well as the gentle pitter-patter of Stiles’ heart. There was the faintest notion in its rhythm that Stiles was truthful, that he truly wished Derek would be set free. Whether he wished for his freedom in order to pursue whatever it was between them, Derek did not know. He could, once again, only hope.

Stiles opened his mouth as if to speak, lips forming a delicious oh shape before shutting moments after. He watched as Stiles turned and walked away from the cell, listening closely as the sound of his footsteps fell quieter by the second.

~~

“Please state your name.”

Derek was brought to the Elder’s Chambers in chains. The elves that brought him had cast some sort of spell on him that seemed to silence his inner wolf and weaken his strength. For good measure, they shackled him in chains of pure silver. The skin around his wrists and ankles burned with every movement but Derek kept himself calm.

“Derek Segundo Hale,” he answered promptly, keeping his voice even. The elder who asked the questions had a striking resemblance to Stiles and Derek could only surmise that it was his mother. The room they sat in was barely lit by candle fire and despite his powers being weakened, Derek could still make out, with fine detail, everything in the room. There was no mistaking the honey-brown eyes staring intently at him; she was indeed Stiles’ mother.

“From where do you come from?” Derek cleared his throat.

“A town called Beacon Hills, about five miles outside of these woods.” A slight murmur ran through the room at his words. It seems they were familiar with his hometown. The woman rose her hand, successfully silencing the room.

“What brought you to us today, Mr. Hale?”

So far this wasn’t much of an interrogation as it was a simple conversation. Derek was expecting more shouting, possibly a bit of torture to get him to talk. Straightening himself in his chair, Derek ignored the burning in his skin as he spoke.

“There has been a war happening in my town for nearly two years. Human hunters have gathered together to wipe out all known werewolves. Their leader is a man named Christopher Argent. His family goes back generations, some believe them to be the very first hunters. They cornered me on the edge of your lands and I had nowhere else to run. Chris and two of his hunters chased me through the woods until I stumbled upon one of your people.” He decided not to mention Stiles by name, thinking it best to keep things strictly platonic- for now.

“How exactly did you manage to break through our wards?” A different elder spoke this time. Derek gazed around the room until he found the owner of the voice. It belonged to an older man who leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped together in front of him.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, werewolves, like myself, have heightened senses. I can, with great confidence, say that if I sensed your wards, I would have avoided them.”

“Preposterous. Those wards were put into place by the most powerful of our kind. It is impossible that they were broken. You’re lying.” This came from a rather nasty looking woman, her finger pointed accusingly at Derek, a permanent scowl etched on her face.

“We do not yet know of the wards’ conditions, Mina,” Stiles’ mother said calmly, silencing other protests that started to rise. Her gaze fell to Derek again.

“Surely you understand our reservations, young wolf. Our people have been scorned by humans and those in collaboration with them for many years. In my lifetime alone, I have only met one human who seemed intent on bringing peace to all-

“My lady, if I may? I doubt that your involvement with that human all those years ago is germane to our current discussion?”

“I agree,” came the voice of another elder. “We have looked past your … indiscretion and what came of it long ago. These humans are all the same- arrogant and abusive. They will trample over anything and take what they want without question as if the heavens commanded it. Respect is something they severely lack.”

Derek watched as Stiles’ mother composed herself. From what he understood, Stiles’ mother has interacted with humans in the past. She praised one human above all others, a human fighting for equality among different races.

“Jonathan was a kind man and a wonderful father to my son. I stand by my actions. I believe it is time we looked beyond our past and look toward the future. Perhaps the wards were removed by the All-Mother herself. Perhaps She felt it necessary for us to travel outside our lands once again. We cannot be certain what has transpired. We must conclude and decide what our best move forward is.”

“Blasphemy.”

“Outrageous.”

“The All-Mother _could_ be behind this. She would never steer us in the wrong direction.”

“Maybe…”

Derek listened as the elders weighed their options. The room seemed split on the cause of their dilemma. In the back of Derek’s head though, one thought kept playing over and over: Stiles’ father was human. Derek could only guess whether or not Stiles knew this about his father. Derek was getting the sense that they had forgotten about him until one elder had risen from his chair. He looked to be the youngest elder in the room.

“What of the wolf? Do we trust his story enough to release him from our prison?” The room fell quiet once more as all eyes fell on Derek.

“We must first determine the cause of our wards failing. Then we shall come to a decision of his fate.” Stiles’ mother’s voice rang through the room. Derek figured that was better than a life sentenced to a cell in the middle of a forest.

At least one good thing came from Derek staying in prison a little while longer: he had the chance to see Stiles. With that chance came Derek’s opportunity to, at the very least, figure out whether Stiles felt what he felt.

~~

Derek was in the cell for five days.

Stiles came and visited him every day.

He just sat there and talked. And boy, could this guy talk.

Derek just sat in his cell, ate his food (which Stiles had brought to him), and listened, adding his input here and there. He watched as Stiles gesticulated with every word that left his mouth. He had a hard time ignoring Stiles’ long, slender fingers and what he wanted to do with them.

On day three, Stiles had asked about family, and Derek shuffled nervously. Stiles’ eyes narrowed, concern etched in his eyebrows.

“Family a touchy subject? Sorry.”

“No,” Derek said immediately, “it’s fine. Just haven’t … My sister, Cora, and I are all that’s left.” Derek pushed out, a lump forming in his throat. Stiles’ eyes shone bright as Derek’s gaze met them.

“I’m sorry,” he said, Derek could practically see the cogs turning in his head. “I never knew my dad,” he began, Derek watching him bother the strings at the hem of his shirt. “I have these flashes every now and then of a man with kind eyes and an intoxicating smile. I think … it’s him. Whenever I ask my mom, she never gives me the full story.”

Derek watched Stiles carefully, the nugget of truth in his head wanting to break out. Derek bit his tongue, though, knowing this wasn’t the time nor place to tell Stiles his father was a human. Not to mention, Derek isn’t the person who should tell him. He decided to change the subject.

“Have your people gone out to check on your wards?” Stiles’ ears twitched.

“How do you know about the wards?”

“It came up in the, uh, interrogation,” Derek said, a small smile overtaking him. “Wasn’t much of an interrogation, though, by any account. I was expecting torture, maybe a little bit of wolfs bane.” Stiles seemed intrigued, as if he, too, was expecting more.

“It must mean that they intend to set you free, in the end,” Stiles said, Derek noting the touch of sadness in his voice. He considered Stiles then, noticing how he was avoiding Derek’s gaze, a touch of red emanating from the tips of his ears.

The fourth day in the cell came and Derek noticed something different about Stiles. He was pacing back and forth in front of the cell, hands worrying in front of him as he mumbled something under his breath. Derek picked up every word.

“Of course, she’ll be upset, but she’ll understand. It’s what everyone in the village wants, anyways, so I’m doing them a favor, really. I need to plan it right. Get out to the edge of the forest before they finish and-

Stiles must have then realized where he was. Looking up at Derek, he visibly flushed, a redness that trickled down his neck and under his shirt. Worrying his lower lip, Stiles stepped up to the cell, hands embracing the bars so tightly they turned white. Derek stood from his spot, noticing the urgency and terror in the other man’s eyes.

“You don’t have to say yes, but, please, say yes,” he said, eyes searching Derek for courage. Derek moved closer to Stiles, hands resting on the other man’s, his touch calming. Derek gave Stiles time to think through what he was about to say. Stiles pulled Derek in closer, suddenly, foreheads touching. Derek inhaled deeply. There was a new sensation in his scent. It was a mixture of something bold and spicy, reminding Derek of cinnamon, of all things.

“Run away with me?” Stiles asked, seemingly breathless.

“Yes.”

~~

With the prospect of running away with Stiles, Derek couldn’t sleep that night. He lies awake, staring at the ceiling of his cell, going over their plan.

According to Stiles, the elders needed at least a week to restore the wards around their land. Which meant that, if they were smart about it, he and Stiles could slip through unnoticed before they finished. Derek was a little hesitant, despite his initial reaction to Stiles asking him to run away with him. Stiles was putting his life on the line to get Derek out.

They were waiting for nightfall, when there was only one guard stationed outside the cell. Stiles was confident in his abilities and was certain he could incapacitate the guard long enough to get Derek out. Derek had no doubts about his power, either. Ever since the first day they met, Derek has reveled in the feeling of the other man’s raw energy emanating around him. Derek was curious whether his power was due to his parentage.

There were no windows in the cell, but Derek could feel the moon’s pull grow. His inner wolf squirmed at the sensation, but Derek willed it to heel. Now wasn’t the time to go on all fours.

Stiles had brought him clothes the day before, making sure to find some large enough to cover him. A small part of Derek hoped Stiles would bring something that was his so he could have the constant reminder of his (hopefully) near future. Even if it meant he had to squeeze into it, the prospect of having clothes that smelled like Stiles would make the venture all that more enjoyable.

Just then, Derek heard something akin to someone snapping their fingers followed by a brief grunt. He quickly made his way to the gate, ears tuning into the environment around him. Stiles came into view then, clad in a deep purple, almost black, robe with a matching cape wrapped around his neck that fell just above his ankles. A satchel hung from his left shoulder, crossed his chest, and rested on his right hip. Derek heard the twinkle of keys as Stiles approached the gate, making quick work of the lock.

“Sorry, there was a, uh… complication,” Stiles greeted him, slightly breathless.

“What happened?” Derek asked, eyes travelling to the incapacitated guard near the entrance. Derek could see the cogs turning in the other man’s head, eyes darting back and forth as he paced for a moment. Derek let him be as he made his way over to the guard. Derek searched for a weapon, anything that would help them get out of the forest alive should they be confronted. Stiles came up next to him, then, hand extended.

“I thought we could use this,” he said, his voice small, as if he’s scared of the object he held in his hand. Derek reached out, gently taking the gun from Stiles, the latter wiping his hand on his robe.

“Simply touching it won’t hurt you,” Derek said softly before checking the barrel of the gun. Five bullets. It was better than nothing. “We’re lucky the gun itself isn’t made of silver or else it would be useless.”

“Be that as it may, I still don’t like it.”

“We can discuss this later. Aren’t you supposed to be breaking me out?”

“You’re right. Let’s go.” Stiles tossed the keys next to the guard as they walked out into the village. Derek moved in front of Stiles, setting a gentle yet firm hand over his abdomen, bringing them to a stop.

“Everything looks calm,” Derek said softly, his ears perking up.  

“Yes. I don’t feel anything out of the usual. There will be guard on the border of the village, about a mile out. After that, we shouldn’t run into anyone until we’re at the edge of the woods,” Stiles explained in a rushed whisper.

“We’ll be okay, Stiles,” Derek reassured before taking the other man’s hand in his own. Derek felt a smidgen of tension leave Stiles at the touch as he pulled him forward.

**

“There are more guards here than I thought there would be,” Stiles said softly as the pair hid themselves behind a large tree.

“We could circle back? Go around another way?” Derek suggested.

“Knowing my mother, she’ll have guards circling the entire village.” Derek then thought of going up, climbing through the treetops but-

“That could work,” Stiles whispered, eyes turning upward. Before Derek could get a word in edgewise, Stiles was already half way up the tree. Derek didn’t even have time to register whether Stiles had read his mind or if he said his plan out loud. He could only watch as Stiles made quick work of maneuvering himself up to the first branch steady enough to support his weight. Stiles held his hand up once he settled, signaling for Derek to wait before following him.

Derek watched as Stiles shifted his body to the left, now facing the direction of the guards. He saw Stiles’s eyes squint, no doubt looking for the best neighboring tree to-

And there here goes.

Without a word to Derek, Stiles leapt to another tree. It looked as though he floated from tree to tree, never letting his hands and feet stay planted for more than two seconds. Derek leapt into the treetops and followed behind Stiles.

They were at least half a mile away from the guards by now, but Stiles continued gliding through the treetops until he changed direction suddenly.

Derek followed suit, trusting that Stiles knew where he was going, having lived in the woods his entire life. A gust of wind blew through the canopy suddenly and Derek watched as Stiles hugged the tree he found himself on. He followed suit, gripping the trunk of the tree with one arm. About three trees separated the two of them as they waited of the sudden onslaught of wind.

Derek could just make out Stiles’s scent on the wind as it blew towards him. He felt the hairs on his arms rise as the smell of thunder and Earth mixed with anxiety. He wanted nothing more than to catch up and wrap his arms around Stiles in an effort to console him. To do something to let him know that he was there for him.

Just then, Derek heard Stiles’s voice on the wind, ears perking up.

“We should be safe now,” he started before Derek watched as he jumped to the ground, his robes billowing in the wind gracefully as his feet kissed the forest floor. Derek followed suit, landing with a soft thud. He wasted no time falling in step with Stiles as they resumed their journey out of the forest. Derek tentatively took Stiles’s hand in his, squeezing gently. He heard the small uptick in his heart and could feel Stiles soften at the touch.

“We’re making a quick detour.”

Derek simply nodded his head in agreement, the pair falling into silence again.

**

“I started coming here after my father passed away. Even though I didn’t know him well, I can remember the feeling when he left the physical plane. It felt like I would never be able to breathe again- I could barely stand. When I left the village that day, I could feel a pull in the pit of my stomach. I let the sensation guide me here and the moment I entered this clearing, I felt at peace. I can’t explain why.”

Derek watched as Stiles situated himself on a large tree stump, an assortment of bright mushrooms circling it. Derek could feel an unusual energy in the air around them, especially when Stiles closed his eyes and let his magic free.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to come back to this place … so I wanted to meditate here one more time,” Stiles explained before he grew quiet. Derek felt goosepimples scatter over his arms and up his neck, Stiles’s magic mingling with the energy in the clearing. He felt hot suddenly as he watched Stiles, his inner wolf preening at the sensation. It was overwhelming. Derek felt his heartbeat rise as he was pulled towards Stiles, in a daze.

Derek thought he was hallucinating when he noticed Stiles was emanating a light blue aura. His body was on fire, the heat building the closer he got to Stiles. Blood rushed to his groin, which confused the hell out of him as he found himself kneeling on the forest floor in front of Stiles. Who, by the way, seemed oblivious to the effect of his magic. Derek palmed the front of his pants, finding himself achingly hard. His breath caught in his lungs as Stiles finally opened his eyes.

Stiles tilted his head, regarding Derek’s state with mild curiosity. Derek couldn’t think straight, his brain fuzzy as he lost control.

“ _Stiles_ ,” he choked out, one hand reaching out to touch Stiles, the other sliding under his waistband, seeking friction- something to take the edge off. He fell to the ground, the sensation too great to keep himself upright. Derek watched as Stiles rose from the stump and knelt next to him on the ground.

“This feeling… this young elf aches for you, young wolf. He aches to touch you, to do the most feral things to you. It is sweet, the feelings he has for you after knowing you for such a short amount of time.” Stiles spoke softly, hands hovering over Derek but there was something strange about the way he talked … as if he wasn’t himself. Derek grunted as Stiles placed a hand on his stomach, settling something inside him.

“Protect this child, young wolf. He will be the spark that ignites the flames. He will be the key to bringing my people back into the modern world. He will be the blinding light in the darkness. Do what you must to keep his light shining bright. This union has been written in the stars for over one hundred years. I beg you to keep him safe.”

Then, Derek felt a hot fire burning in the pit of his stomach as he noticed Stiles change form for the briefest of moments. He could see the silhouette of a gorgeous elf, blonde hair falling to the forest floor, dressed head to toe in dazzling white garbs. She smiled at him and he felt his body melt into the ground, consciousness leaving him moments later.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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